


he's newt, my best friend.

by anatheweirdo



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Imaginary-ish!Newt, M/M, Minho is mentioned, Newt is imaginary, OR IS HE, strictly newmas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-24
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2655872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatheweirdo/pseuds/anatheweirdo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His name is Newt. I know that because he's my best friend. He's imaginary, not real. But he's my best friend, and that's all that matters.</p><p>He's not real, Thomas knows that, but it hurts too bad to say it.</p><p>"Apparently fate has a different way of showing the strings that we are tied to."</p><p>[completed]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. he's newt, my best friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [potato_pie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/potato_pie/gifts).



> This has been bugging me, and after a good hour of typing this the result.
> 
> One of my best works in a while to be honest, hope you like it.

Thomas remembered the day he met Newt.

 

His parents were fighting as usual, but it never failed to frighten ten-year-old Thomas.

 

He wished his parents would stop fighting and come and play with him and his toys. He didn’t have any friends that lived close to his apartment, which made him lonelier.

 

He sat on his bed, his torso hidden in the blankets. He was hiding from his fighting parents again, making sure to lock his bedroom so his father won’t let the rest of his anger be brought up to him.

 

“I want a friend,” he said one day. He closed his eyes, imagining a boy with blond hair, a smile that can cheer up anyone’s day and a funny accent, smiling as he did so.

 

He kept on focusing for a few minutes.

 

“Tommy!” he opened his eyes, a blond boy smiling at him.

 

“ _Newt_ ,” Thomas breathes, hugging him.

 

Seven years later

 

Thomas had gotten used to the stares from people. He didn’t really care that the fact he had brought his imaginary—no he’s just not seen, he would object—friend up to the age of seventeen.

 

He had graduated high school a few months earlier than expected (due to his absolutely breathtaking report card), and is currently deciding which university he is going to attend in the next few years of his life.

 

“Argh, so many universities,” the boy complained, throwing yet another ‘Congratulations, you have been chosen to go to XX university’s entrance exam for a chance of a scholarship!’ pamphlet into his almost full trash bin.

 

“Why not this university? I heard your good friend Minho is gonna attend this bloody university,” Newt suggested, pointing at a quite small pamphlet on Thomas’ coffee table. Thomas wanted to ask Newt to give the pamphlet to him but remembered the blond _can’t_ because he doesn’t _exist_.

 

He doesn’t exist, Thomas thought bitterly. Even if he knew Newt never had existed in the first place it still hurts to say.

 

“Glade University? What kind of name is that,” Thomas muttered. “Whoa, there’s some good computer engineering classes there, better check em’ out in the Open House.”

 

“Yea, it seems like a pretty good uni,” Newt agrees. “I wish I could attend. I want to join the Physics major.”

 

“Isaac Newton,” Thomas jokes. “Hey, you named me after him,” Newt pouted, earning a laugh from the brunet.

 

 

“It kind of hurts,” Newt says one day.

 

“What is it?” Thomas asked. “Do you have a wound or something?”

 

“No, you slinthead,” the blond muttered.

 

“If I had existed maybe you won’t get all those stares from people, live a normal life without any stares or rumors, ya’ know?”

 

Thomas sighs, it had been the fiftieth (not that he wanted to count anyway) time the blond had made a problem out of this. He didn’t mind, though. It was normal for Newt to experience this, for _them_ to experience this.

 

“For the fiftieth time, it’s okay, Newt. I had made you for a reason, and you’re now my best pal in the whole world, and I would never ever regret creating you in the first place,” Thomas smiles, hugging the blond. “I love you so damn much.”

 

“Promise?” Newt whispered. “Promise,” Thomas smiles, kissing him.

 

\-----

 

 

“Table twenty-one, twenty-one… oh there it is,” Thomas muttered, looking for the computer engineering section. There seemed to be quite a number of people crowding the table, mostly teens with glasses or some interested girls looking to flirt with the completely uninterested guys.

 

“We have a small example class on the twentieth June,” a man announced, loud enough for Thomas to hear. “If you’re interested please come by this table to give us your emails, we need them for giving you the exact information.”

 

The teens wrote on a sheet of paper and walked away from the table, some visiting other booths and the others going to the exit doors.

 

Thomas walked over and wrote his email address in the column provided, writing ‘Thomas Andrew’ on the other column for a name.

 

He glanced at the paper to make sure his email address wasn’t mistaken, and took another glance at the paper.

 

‘Newt Axton’ was written above him. ‘Newt?’ he thought, but shrugged it off. There is more than one guy under the name Newt in this world, right? Thomas convinced that guy isn’t Newt.

 

But for some reason he couldn’t get that thought of meeting this Newt Axton on the twentieth.

 

\-----

 

Thomas didn’t see Newt at the eighteenth of June.

 

He was very busy gathering up some basic knowledge for his upcoming class, and he knew Newt wasn’t that type of guy who’ll disturb him during the busy times of his life.

 

Newt showed up when Thomas was shopping for some food and shirts, laughing at the brunet’s shitty choice of clothing. “Seriously, a neon green t-shirt? Who wants to buy that klunk, Tommy?” the blond would say, and Thomas will just snort with a pout.

 

At night Newt murmured something about we’ll meet in two days when Thomas was half-asleep, and the brunet didn’t catch what he said.

 

“We’ll meet in two days, Tommy,” Newt smiles as he looked at his sleeping friend. “We’ll meet and finally get to see each other in _person_.”

 

And he faded away.

 

\------

 

Newt wasn’t there at the twentieth. Thomas couldn’t call him if he concentrated hard enough.

 

He checked his emails and found out that class started in an hour, so he rushed to the underground train station after taking a shower and wore some casual looking clothes.

 

It literary took Thomas ten minutes to find the damn class.

 

Apparently he had missed his class for around six times while walking around, and he mostly blames Minho for making him greet the friends he had made in his own class.

 

Thomas learnt his Professor is a man named Ben, a nice fellow and had a genius mind. The class was fun, and Thomas decided he’s going to apply for the major. I think I’m going to regret this decision, he thought.

 

He was walking out of class, going straight home. He walked through the roads of his neighborhood when he bumped into a teen.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry—,” Thomas apologized, but stopped when he saw the teen’s features. “It’s okay, it’s my bloody fault—,” the teen also apologized, but stopped mid sentence. The two accidentally grabbed each other’s hands, and that’s when Thomas realized.

 

Blond hair, funny accent, soft _soft_ hands, and a face oh so familiar.

 

“N-Newt?” the brunet whispered, eyes staring at the blond with shock.

 

“Tommy, is that you?” the blond—Newt—beamed happily at him.

 

“Oh my god this can’t be happening no this can’t be happening,” Thomas kept on whispering, hugging the blond with all his might.

 

“You’re _real_ ,” Thomas breathes, touching the side of his face.

 

“Yeah, I am. It seems you and I were… connected somehow. Was I your imaginary friend at the age of ten?” Newt asks, and Thomas nodded.

 

“Apparently fate has a different way of showing the strings that we are tied to." Newt says.

 

“Yeah,” Thomas agrees.

 

The two walked into Thomas’ house because Thomas felt tired, and they were now cuddling in his perfect-for-one-person bed.

 

“Frypan’s for lunch? My treat,” Newt offered, and Thomas nodded.

 

“Only if you give me your address,” the brunet whispered, kissing him.

  



	2. he's tommy, my good friend.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His name is Tommy. My Tommy.
> 
> I love him, and I don't wanna grow up.
> 
> Sequel to he's newt, my best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you likeee
> 
> dedicated to sasha aka potato_pie (even if u don't ship newmas hehe)

Newt was an unordinary little fellow.

 

He lived with his aunt and uncle, along with his little sister and cousin. He never met his father and mother, and if he ever did he had forgotten about their faces.

 

“Auntie Lilith where are mama and papa? I wanna know who my mama and papa are,” seven year old Newt asks, tugging on his aunt’s shirt. “They’re in a better place, dear,” his aunt responds, patting the little boy on the head.

 

“Are they in a theme park? That place is always better than school!” the blond says innocently, grinning. “Maybe they are,” his aunt smiles. “Now go and play with little Alice over there.”

 

“Okay!”

 

**\------**

 

It took him five years for Newt to realize his parents had died.

 

He was cleaning the house when he saw a small newspaper cut fell from the drawer in his living room. It dated way back when he was three years old.

 

_6 th November 20xx_

_In memory of Mr. and Mrs. Axton,_

_May their souls rest in peace._

 

His heart shattered into the tiniest of pieces when he read that.

 

**\-------**

 

He locked himself in his room for the whole day.

 

His sister and aunt kept on banging the door, but he just shooed them away with a completely rage-filled scream.

 

“I can’t talk to them,” he whispered. “I want someone else to talk to.”

 

He closed his eyes, thinking of some ways to express his emotions without wrecking his apartment down. He couldn’t talk to his aunt, why did she not tell him?

 

“Imaginary friend, huh?” the blond mutters, chuckling to himself. “Immature, but better than some bloody diary.”

 

He closed his eyes, imagining a boy with brown hair, a normal accent and a heartwarming smile. “Thomas,” he whispers. “Tommy.”

 

“Newt, come on, let’s play!” he heard a voice, opening his eyes. He saw a brunet smiling at him, lending him a hand

 

“Thomas,” he smiles, taking his hand.

 

**\-----**

 

He kept on playing with Thomas until he grew up.

 

He didn’t want to let him go, no Thomas is the nicest kid he had ever met.

 

Newt had gotten used to the strange glances he got when he talked to Thomas, who looked normal to him but when others see it’s like he’s talking to himself.

 

“They just don’t have a good sense of imagination,” he always says to himself.

 

_“But honestly, I think I should grow up.”_

**\-------**

 

“College?” Thomas says, lifting an eyebrow. “You’re seventeen and you’re already joining a shucking _university_.”

 

They were walking around in Glade University, Newt’s soon-to-be university.

 

“Well, not my fault my aunt got me into this,” Newt mutters, kicking an empty can of soda. “And they have a pretty good reputation, so I guess it’s for the best.”

 

“I wanna join that cool looking major over there,” Thomas exclaimed, pointing over to the astronomy poster. “Astronomy, huh? That seems really boring,” the blond says.

 

“Well if I existed, anyway. What major are you taking?” the brunet asks. “Computer engineering. It seems hard but I wanna study that bloody major,” Newt answered, smiling. “Boring,” Thomas says, emphasizing the ‘i’ of the word.

 

“Why don’t you join Physics instead? Isaac Newton,” he smirks, earning a punch from the blond.

 

“Argh, shut up.”

 

**\----------**

 

“Booth number twenty one,” Newt mutters. He was in the hall of the university, trying to find the said number of a booth. He found it and walked in, but it seems the small show going on had ended.

 

“Trial classes will be conducted in twentieth of June,” he heard a man announce, or at least that’s what he heard. “Write down your emails and full name, so we can tell you the details.”

 

He saw a figure walking towards him, his face seemed awfully familiar.

 

“Tommy?” he whispered.

 

He looked like Thomas; the way he mutters to himself is like Thomas. He _must_ be Thomas.

 

Newt didn’t know what to do, and scurried of towards the booth. He wrote his email address and name, and dashed out of the hall.

 

“No, it can’t be him,” Newt whispered, both of his hands palming his face. “No, he doesn’t exist.”

 

**\-------**

 

“Hey, Newt,” Thomas says, floating. “What is it?” Newt responded, putting some of his plates in the dishwasher.

 

“Isn’t it time for you to get rid of me? I mean, you’re seventeen now. I’ve been with you for seven whole years. You should really grow up, I mean I am just a fragment of your imagina…”

 

“I don’t want to listen to that klunk, Tommy,” Newt objects, looking sharply at his imaginary friend. “You’re a part of me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I don’t want to grow up. Please, I don’t want to talk about this. It hurts.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Thomas whispered. “Don’t be,” Newt says, kissing him on the lips.

 

It felt real. Not just like kissing the air, but it felt like Thomas’ lips were molding with his.

 

**\----------**

 

It was eighteenth of June.

 

“Tommy?” Newt calls, trying to make him appear. “Tommy? Where are you?”

 

 

“That’s odd,” the blond mutters.

 

_Maybe my imagination is growing lesser and lesser by the year._

_Maybe I’m finally growing up_.

 

No, he objected. I don’t wanna grow up.

 

**\----------**

Thomas glanced at a sleeping Newt.

 

Of course he didn’t need to be worried of Newt’s aunt catching him, because he is invincible after all.

 

“We’ll meet in two days,” Thomas whispered, smiling.

 

“Two more shucking days.”

**\---------**

 

Twentieth June.

 

Newt didn’t see Thomas all day.

 

“Where the bloody hell is that man,” Newt grumbled, walking into his computer engineering class.

 

“You must be Newt Axton,” a man with blond hair says, fixing his glasses. “Yes, Sir,” Newt responded. “You may pick any seat you’d like. Please provide a notebook and stationery for we will be taking notes in this class. I’m Professor Ben, you can call me Ben, though,” Ben instructs.

 

Newt sat on the back of the class, not bothering to greet the other teens that were already seated.

 

He took his iPad and opened the college textbook he downloaded a couple of days ago (because they’re overpriced, he says). Chapter one – How To Think Like A Computer Scientist.

 

“Kinda easy,” he muttered.

 

He spaced out for a while before he received an email from his aunt, saying that she won’t be home by dinner.

 

“You’re Thomas Andrew, right?” Professor Ben says, which made Newt jolt up from his seat. “Yes, I am, Sir,” the brunet in front of him smiles.

 

Tommy? He thought, eyes opening.

 

Brunet, a smile that only belonged to one person in the world. He is Tommy, _his_ Tommy. He sat a few seats in front of him. He didn’t seem to notice him, which was good but somehow bad.

 

Oh god, this class is gonna be hell, Newt grunts.

 

**\----------**

Newt just had to be called by some guy he didn’t know.

 

It seemed that his sister brought him lunch and that was the reason he had to walk for ten minutes from class to the front of the campus. But the lunch was his favorite spaghetti with meatballs, so it was definitely worth it.

 

Luckily Professor Ben was wrapping up when he was called, so he didn’t have to miss any notes.

 

He went to his class to pick up his backpack. He felt a weight of a person collide with his and he grunts in pain.

 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry— oh my god are you okay?” the teen apologizes, lifting Newt up. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it— Tommy?” the blond says, looking at the brunet.

 

“Newt? Oh my god this can’t be happening no this can’t be, you’re my imaginary friend,” Thomas whispers, pulling him into a hug.

 

“You’re my imaginary friend,” Newt whispered. “So were you,” Thomas whispers back.

 

**\----------**

 

They were at Thomas’ house, all cuddled up against the blankets.

 

“Wanna go to Frypan’s? My treat,” Newt suggests. Thomas only cuddled deeper, burying his head in Newt’s neck.

 

“Only if you tell me your address,” Thomas whispered, his breath tickling his neck.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hoped you liked it :)  
> Please leave kudos and a comment if you do! ^^


End file.
